Encoded Love
by Lady of Himring
Summary: 24 times in the lives of Sansa and Sandor. [Some are book canon, some divergence and AUs. Will always be noted. Chapter 7 has mentions of past abuse.]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**_ All characters belong to George R. R. Martin. And the song belongs to Hooverphonic, I claim no ownership nor do I profit from this fanwork._

**Note:** Using the 24 times prompt table. Title taken from Hooverphonic's "Encoded Love" song. Book Canon.

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><p><em>And all I get from you is encoded love.<br>Encoded Love, Hooverphonic._

_The first time _

"You were so brave…" The words still rang in his head, of all the things he had seen and heard, those had been the last words he had ever expected to hear.

He was sure she was still afraid of him, barely able to look at him and he had mocked her, called her a chirping bird, repeating the phrases she had been taught as a girl. But here she was, for a moment either bravery or stupidity, he could not say, thanking him for saving her.

He was sure that was the first time someone ever thanked him.

_The last time._

He had been drunk and terrified out of his wits, he was sure. The wildfire raging around him brought back unpleasant memories and so, he left. Desertion and treason they would call it, he didn't care.

The Red Keep was in upheaval, so he made his way towards Sansa's room undisturbed. Once there he dropped and sat curled in a corner. She wasn't in her room, he knew Queen Cersei had summoned the noble ladies and she would be there, obedient little bird that she was.

He heard the steps and door opening, later her voice. She was afraid, how could she not? The wine, the fire and the battle had him asking for the song, a song he had previously mocked her for; but that is not what he got. A tear left his eye without him even noticing. He offered to take her away, she remained silent.

So he tore his cloak away and tossed it and he left. That was the last time he saw Sansa Stark.

_The worst time._

He heard of the wedding while traveling with Arya Stark. He felt nauseous and sickened. For a moment it didn't matter that he was on the road, possibly facing death, all that matter was her.

He wasn't sure what emotion was strongest in him, rage or pity; rage for the poor girl who had faced more in her young life than many others do in a lifetime. War wasn't kind for anyone, but it seemed that war wasn't over and wouldn't be over any time soon for Sansa. Pity, for a girl who had grown surrounded by love and laughter, whose dreams of songs and chivalry he cruelly mocked, now faced with a lifetime sentence of being married to the Imp.

He knew for certain that her wedding had to be the worst time of her life for her. And he would only permit to himself admit that it was also the worst time for him.

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><p><strong>AN:** First SanSan fic, hope you guys like. All comments and constructive criticism are very much welcome. Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to George R. R. Martin, the song to Hoovephonic. I make no profit nor do I claim ownership of either.

**Note:** Sansa's pov. Book canon.

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><p><em>But this labyrinth of dots &amp; stripes<em>  
><em>Is so hard to solve<em>  
>Encoded Love by Hooverphonic.<p>

_Night time._

For Sansa, night time had always been a routine until the King and his family came to Winterfell. And when they began their journey South, the promise of a new beginning made hope bloom in her chest. She was sure her song had begun.

Her Prince was gallant towards her, save for that moment when he sent his sworn sword to escort her back to her father's side. It had been the night when she found about Sandor's terrible face scars, but being young and powerless, there was nothing she could do. Only offer the little comfort she could, so taking a deep breath and placing her hand upon his shoulder, she said "He was no true knight."

He had barked a laugh and called her "little bird" for the first time. She was sure, that night held just a small bit little magic in it.

_Time stops._

The knife was at her throat.

She was terrified; the night had already taken the best of her. First Cersei forcing her wine, surrounded by the noble women waiting; the worst was the waiting, she was sure of it. The not knowing what was going on outside the castle walls, but she held onto hope that Stannis would come and she'd be free. She had fled to her room the moment she had had the chance, away from Ser Ilyn, she thought her room was the safest place. And that's when she found him.

Sandor was there too, smelling of wine, blood, smoke and vomit and the fear returned. He had said that everything scared her, that she couldn't even look at him; she had wanted to tell him no, that she wasn't disgusted or afraid of his scars, but the anger that burned in his eyes. He had pushed her to the bed, asking for the song she had once promised him.

And the knife was in her throat as he made her sing, but something inside of her had made her sing, not Florian and Jonquil, but the Mother's Song. She cupped his cheek and time stopped for a moment. And then, with a "Little Bird" and the sound of cloth ripping, he was gone.

_Every time_

She didn't do it on purpose, but sometimes the Hound would creep into her mind. Without her giving much thought about it, he was there.

It started when she had told Ser Meryn that he was no true knight, she was sure the Hound would have laughed. She thought of the knights and their vows and remembered that the Hound had hated the knights and she had come to hate them too. And during the siege of King's Landing, she had included him in her prayers too.

Latter when Margaery arrived to the sounds of a cheering crowd, the same crowd the Hound had saved her from not so long ago. When she had been invited to soup with Margaery and her grandmother, wished him near her.

When talking with Margaery's cousins, she contemplated asking what they think of the kiss the Hound had given her. When wed to Tyrion, she found him uglier than the Hound, she remembered his words and the advice he'd given her. Taught her to lie better without knowing he had done so. When some knight was compared to the Hound, she questioned it. Had wished that Dontos had the ferocity of the Hound, instead of being a drunken fool.

When talking to Myranda, she again, thought of his kiss. She didn't know exactly why, but Sandor was never far from her mind.

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><p><strong>AN:** All comments and constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged. Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to George R. R. Martin, the song to Hoovephonic. I make no profit nor do I claim ownership of either.

**Note:** Sansa and Sandor's povs. Book canon and divergence.

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><p><em>But Morse is just the only code we know<br>Short long short  
>Encoded Love by Hooverphonic.<br>_

_The best time._

It had begun with her fears over Sweetrobin, Petyr's kisses and "Alayne's" engagement. Sansa knew she wasn't safe but kept a charade after all, she didn't have anyone anymore. But Petyr's "when he dies" comment kept coming back at her, it wouldn't let her rest and she feared for the boy. Bratty as he was and unknowingly to him, he was the only family left to her.

Hope arrived in the form of her granduncle, Brynden Tully. It had been difficult with so many people around them in the Gates of the Moon, but she managed to talk to him, tell him her story. She had wept then, as he held her, she had cherished the feeling of being safe; one she had not felt since her father's death. It had been later with Brynden's help that she rallied the men of the Vale to her (and most above all, her cousin) side. Only then she had been brave enough to tell the truth, of what Petyr had done and what the Lady Oleanna had done. The men where eager for war, but she was eager for home.

Later came a woman, calling herself a knight and the Kingslayer, looking for her. And she was afraid, now she had someone who could truly protect her, but still was afraid. Brienne of Tarth, she named herself, said she had sworn an oath to her mother that she intended to keep. To find her and keep her safe. The Kingslayer, she said, would help them as he too, had sworn an oath to her mother.

When word came that Stannis Baratheon had re-taken Winterfell she felt joy, only dampened by news of Jon's stabbing. He was the only one that was left of the family she so missed, and now she faced the thought of loosing him too.

But then, news came, Rickon found alive with the wilding woman that Robb had once spared. Stannis had placed him as Lord of Winterfell and Sansa knew she had to head North. And so she did, with Bryden, Brienne and the Kingslayer's help she made to White Harbour then, with Lord Manderley's help to Winterfell. Snow fell hard now that winter had arrived and her ancient home was darkened by the shadows of the fire that had damaged it so. Lord Stannis was a dour and stern man, but everything faded away at the sight of her little brother, who had walked up to her and called her 'mother'; it nearly broke her heart, so she held him and swore to never leave him.

Osha had more happy news to share, Bran was alive too; he had been taken elsewhere by the Reeds. And when the raven came bearing news that Jon survived, she was fit to explode. It didn't matter to her that Robb had taken her out in his will, she had part of her family back and that was all that mattered to her. Later a raven arrived, bearing news that as far as someone knew, Arya too was alive. She had fallen to her knees in her room and wept. For her, having what she thought had lost long ago: Family.

_Time heals _

Sandor had been itching to go away from the Isle.

It was true that the brothers, specially the Elder Brother had done much to heal him, saved him when others would have left him to die. But he was never nor would he ever be a pious man. So when news arrived that Sansa Stark had reappeared in Winterfell, he had sent a raven without signature telling her that her sister was most likely alive. Had been when he last saw her.

He could walk almost like he did before his injury. True, he would never be the foot fighter that he had once been, but he could still fight on horse, could help plan a battle and could lead the men himself. So he didn't hesitated when the Elder Brother asked what he had planned to do, he told him, go North and serve the Lady Stark.

Whatever use that she might find from him, he would take it. She was worth fighting for and he wouldn't leave her again. So he took Stranger out of his stall, and the destrier knew, he was finally ready to leave. And he would leave and face whatever the North had to offer, if anything, he would do it for Sansa.

_About time_

Sansa didn't know what had woken her.

The whole castle was silent around her, only the wind and its howls were the only sounds she heard. But something had awoken her, so she left the bed and covered herself in furs, Shaggydog by her side (as he had taken to follow her around) she walked around the castle and found nothing, none were awake. But her heart knew something she did not.

So she left the comfort of the castle and went outside, walking towards the Godswood she heard a noise. A crunch made by foots on the snow and then another, and another, she looked around, Shaggy ever alert headed towards the noise. He led her out of the Godswood and outside the courtyard and then she saw him.

Mounted on Stranger, cold and by the look of it tired, stood no other than Sandor Clegane. The Hound. Her heart beat was fast and she felt like she had a bird or hundreds of butterflies in her stomach; Shaggy stood firm, watching the man and horse intently, as if assesing if either were a danger to her. She called him to her side and he obeyed.

Sandor dismounted and she took a hesitant step forward and held her hand out, she saw him hesitate, she took another step forward and said, "About time, welcome home." Sandor took her hand then and together they walked back towards Winterfell.

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><p><strong>AN:** All comments and constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged. Thank you for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to George R. R. Martin. And the song belongs to Hooverphonic, I claim no ownership nor do I profit from this fanwork.

**Note:** Using the 24 times prompt table. Title taken from Hooverphonic's "Encoded Love" song. Canon divergence, post A Dance with Dragons.

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><p><em>So hard to break encoded love<em>  
><em>It's all I get from you<em>  
><em>~Encoded Love, Hooverphonic.<em>

**Time Changes.**

Sandor wasn't sure what to make of this girl. Woman, he corrected himself; Sansa had long left girlhood behind her. She was a Queen now, and a Winter Queen at that.

This wasn't the scared girl he had met in Winterfell, nor the caged bird left at the mercy of the Lannisters, this was a woman who with help of her granduncle, had risen the army of the Vale and rode North. Once he heard the news that Sansa Stark was riding North with men at her back; he had saddled Stranger and left the Isle.

He had pledged himself to her service, in whichever manner she would have him serve. And that's how he found himself attending war councils, preparing and organizing other men; if the news that Stannis Baratheon had shared were true, the real battle would be a hard one.

That is why Sansa had ridden North, retaking Winterfell was a priority, she had said. She had received news from her half brother and she had believed them.

"Jon wouldn't lie about something so dire." She had told him frowning at him after he had questioned the idea. "Which is why we need Winterfell, so we can at least have a safe refuge should the worst come to pass."

It had been the combined forces of the Vale and the men from Stannis who had purged Winterfell of Bolton and Frey.

She had ordered that Bolton be kept alive; she would pass the sentence herself on him. And so she did, and by doing so, she pulled the knife.

It had only been much later, in the privacy of what once was her father's solar, that she had allowed herself to cry. He had no words of comfort, so he did the only thing he could, held her until she was done.

The Queen of Winter wouldn't let any man see her cry; but Sansa Stark allowed him that.

**At Times Like This.**

Sansa walked around Winterfell, never alone, she usually had Brienne or Sandor with her. She would touch the walls and see the scorch marks the fire had left behind; but she was undaunted, she knew that she had to be strong.

But as she walked the halls of her old home, she found how little it remained; she herself had removed the Bolton banner from the Great Hall and had Brienne hang a Stark banner again. She went room to room, checking for all the damage and looking at what could be saved, she found herself remembering happier times; when her siblings and her run around playing together. An innocent time she wouldn't be able to recuperate.

Father, Mother and Robb were gone; Arya hadn't been found yet (she was sure that her sister was alive, Arya was too stubborn to die), Lord Manderly had told her that Rickon and Bran were alive; both in hiding, but that King Stannis had sent his Hand to retrieve Rickon. Some of the mountain clans were sure Bran was alive too, but weren't sure where he was. She didn't dare hope; she wouldn't allow herself to be hopeful only to have that hope dashed.

She had found herself being both thankful and grateful for Sandor; for even if he walked with a limp, he could still make men fear him and he was a great warrior on horseback. He was more often than not, her companion and the one to speak the ugly truth and she was thankful; she had grown tired of men thinking she was someone to shelter (she was sure Sandor thought it too), but she had seen and lived much to be anything less than strong.

So, when the time came of Roose's sentencing, it didn't came as a surprise that Sandor and other had objected at her being the one to end his life. She rose then and with a strong and cold voice simply said: "Who passes the sentence, passes the sword. I am a Stark of Winterfell, I might not be strong enough for a sword, but I can use a knife just fine."

She was sure she saw pride in Sandor's eyes.

When she had slit Roose's throat, she could have sworn that just for a moment, her family was with her and it gave her strength.

**Out Of Time.**

The parchment lay forgotten in the table.

Only Sandor remained with her, the rest of her council had already left; making plans for the battle that was to come. The Wall had begun to crack and fall piece by piece, and time was of essence; they had battle plans to make and to forge the obsidian swords and knives that were going to be needed.

Sansa wanted to cry, for the first time she wanted to scream and run; to have her father or brother at her side, telling her that everything would to be alright. But both were gone, forever lost to her; Rickon was barely a boy and Bran hadn't come back yet. She closed her eyes, unwilling to let the tears that had gathered on her eyes fall. She was a Queen, not a child.

"Little Bird…" She heard Sandor call, and opened her eyes to watch him observe her. His eyes no longer held that anger that once had frightened; she gave him a smile. "I can't promise that all will be well, but I can promise you this, we all will fight until the end."

Her smile was softer; she wished she had the proper words to thank him. It was as if he knew what she needed to hear before she could form the words. And the words would not come to her, she felt her throat tightened and her stomach did a flip, so she did the only thing she thought, she stood and hugged him.

The hug had him by surprise and Sansa felt him stiffen. He wasn't used to affection; it was still such a foreign concept to him that part of her wanted to cry. So she whispered "Thank you, for everything."

She felt Sandor relax in her arms and return the hug, it was awkward for him and she could tell. "Little Bird." Were the only words he whispered then, but she didn't care; they were running out of time. But they would fight to the bitter end, she was a Stark of Winterfell and Starks always endured; so would she.

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><p><strong>AN:** As always, all comments and constructive criticism is welcome. Thank you for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to George R. R. Martin, the song to Hoovephonic. I make no profit nor do I claim ownership of either.

**Note:** Coffee shop AU.

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><p><em>Hope is in your eyes<em>  
><em>But hope can be annoying as heartburn<em>  
><em>~Encoded Love, Hooverphonic<em>

_Day Time_

It was the first time the coffee shop was so full.

In all the time she had been getting her tea there, it was the first she encountered a long slow line and the seats all taken. So, she did the only thing she could think off, she started people watching. It was her thing, she would sit anywhere when she wasn't busy and observe people and try to discover little things of them.

And so it was, while waiting for her turn that she first spotted him. It was hard not to, he was head and shoulders taller than everyone else; he had long black hair that fell over one side of his face and held a book in front of him, coffee and sandwich forgotten for the moment. She must have been staring too intently, because he raised his head and looked straight at her. She resisted the urge to flinch.

Half of his face was full of scars and his eyes were dark grey and angry. He stared back at her and she looked down, trying not to blush, but she knew she was failing, for she could feel her cheeks heat up and still feel the heavy weight of his gaze. She dared to look again, pretending to look at some point behind his head; the man still stared at her and while he did, he took a bite of the sandwich and chewed it as if he had a personal vendetta against it.

She was grateful when the second cashier opened another line and thus, things moved faster. And avoided to look again at the man, even if sometimes she could feel him looking at her; waiting for her order would prove to be hard and test her patience, because that would take her close to him. It was a few uncomfortable moments later when she felt a movement on near her back.

It was the man, he had finished his food and was getting ready to leave. Once he stood up, she realized she had been right, he was taller than any man she'd met. At that moment, the barista called with her order and as she reached for her tea she watched from the corner of her eye as he tossed his disposable cup, plate and napkins into the trash and walk pass her towards the exit.

She left the shop tea in hand, wondering about the man.

_Next Time._

He had watched enter the coffee shop, he had been as discreet as possible and watched her as she looked around for a place to sit he guessed; but she was out of luck, the shop had plenty of costumers today and the baristas weren't dealing well with the high demand and the occasional loud costumer.

He couldn't say what her age was, but she was tall and she was a pretty young woman; porcelain skin unmarred, bright blue eyes, red head and with curves. If he was honest with himself, he would have called her beautiful. He looked down and concentrated on his food. A girl like her would never pay any attention to someone like him.

He raised angry eyes when he felt someone looking at him; he had grown used to people staring and pitying or being afraid of him due to his scars. Much to his shock, it was her who was looking at him; standing still and quiet on the line and letting her eyes fall on him, she had looked away then, with a slight blush to her cheeks; he was surprised that for that brief moment when their eyes met, he had not seen pity or anything akin. It was as if she were trying to guess what kind of person he was. He remained with his eyes fixed at her for a moment longer and then returned to his lunch, his time off would be over soon and he would have to go back to work, so he watched to remember the girl.

She had placed her order and now all she had to do was wait to receive it when she got closer to him; she could smell the fait scent of her perfume, something flowery but clean and without being too sweet. It suited her, he decided as he watched her wait for her order in silence and without being jumpy or trying to hurry people to do their jobs. He finished his food and getting ready to leave when he heard the barista for a "Sansa Stark" and saw the girl walk towards them.

He picked his trash and disposed of it and made his way towards the door and, as he passed her by, she didn't flinch or move away as so many tended to do. Sansa Stark, he committed her name to his memory and promised himself that he would find a way to talk to her; that is if they ever found themselves again in the same place.

He walked out the door.

_Extra Time._

It had been a raining day when they met again.

Sansa had been busy with college demands and she hadn't visited the coffee shop as much as she did anymore; she had taken to brewing her own tea (cinnamon with milk sweetened with honey had grown to be a favorite) and staying in for study sessions.

But today, it had been a rough day and she was tired. She decided that she would reward herself with a hot chocolate and the shop's lemon cakes she loved so much. Clutching her umbrella close to herself she made her way towards the shop.

Sandor had given up on seeing Sansa again on the shop, he had made the habit of going back at the same hour hoping to meet again, but it didn't happen. So it was by complete chance that they had met again.

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><p>He had a book with him this time and was distracted enough to ignore the world around him; that is until a soft voice broke his concentration. He looked up, a scowl ready on his face for being interrupted, which changed to surprised when he saw who had spoken to him. It was Sansa. She was looking at him in the eyes, he didn't say anything and she tilted her head, as if she were waiting for something.<p>

He scowled, "Is there a problem girl?"

She shook her head, "No, I just wanted to ask if you minded that we shared the table. I want to eat here and there aren't any other tables."

He looked at her hands, she had some cake in one and a cup of something in the other. He looked around, she was right, there weren't any tables left. "No, I don't mind, just don't interrupt me."

"Thank you and I won't." Her voice sounded relieved. "I'm Sansa Stark."

"Sandor Clegane, now please let me finish what I'm doing."

"Please to meet you, thank you again." She said nothing more then; only sat down with her cake and hot chocolate (he could smell it now) and proceeded to eat in silence.

He was a fast reader and would finish the book before she finished her food. So he started to read slower and occasionally look at her over his book. Who knew when it would be the next time he saw her.

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><p><strong>AN:** All comments and constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged. Thank you for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** All ASoIaF characters and recognizable settings belong to G. R. R. Martin. No Money made and no claim made. The song belongs to Hooverphonic.

**Note:** Continuation from the previous chapter, coffee shop au.

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><p><em>The answer in your eyes is vague<em>  
><em>The answer in your eyes is deep dark blue<em>  
><em>~Encoded Love, by Hooverphonic<em>

**Time Is An Illusion.**

Sansa returned to the coffee a week later, she had no other reason but wanting to sit down, have a cup of coffee with a piece of cake and read a while. Maybe use the free wi-fi and start her research for her upcoming essay.

While waiting in line when she soon felt a presence on her back, she turned and saw Sandor. She smiled at him, he scowled. But she was undaunted; and said hello and invited him to sit with her; his eyebrows shot up but accepted.

They got their orders and made for a table and sat in the comfortable little sofas. It was then when Sansa noticed the book he carried under his arm, Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 411. It was the book that broke the ice and whatever awkwardness they felt, it disappeared while discussing Bradbury's work. And when their coffees had run up, they order another and kept talking.

The conversation was broken when Sandor's phone went off; it was his boss, asking if he planned to return to his work. Neither had realized how fast time had gone by, so they made plans to meet again and went their separate ways.

**In Time.**

It had taken her by surprise how easily she had taken to Sandor, he wasn't so bad once you got pass the rough words and the angry voice, he was full of good advice and made her feel comfortable and much to her surprise, protected.

After her relationship with Joffrey, she had doubted that she would feel comfortable and protected with a stranger; especially one that had so many rough edges to him. After Joffrey she avoided being alone with strange men, usually she had one of her friends or siblings with her. Even her uncle, Edmure on occasions when it was needed.

But somehow that day at the coffee shop with Sandor, talking about books, she had felt free and careless; protected even. For all his bark Sandor had always treated her with kindness, save for the occasion she had interrupted his reading the first and only time.

And for the first time she felt free of the scars Joffrey had left behind with his actions. And had made plans to meet Sandor one more time at the caffee, she had realized that in time, Joffrey would be just a name to her. Her life was waiting and she was ready to fly on her own.

**Time Flies.**

Somehow their coffee meetings became more frequent, one after the other and they never parted without making plans of seeing each other again.

They moved from the coffee shop to a jazz club he wanted to take her, she took him to museum, the movies followed, each taking turns on who would pick what. And when Sansa commented about a play she wanted to see, he got tickets and went with her (he nearly fell asleep). When he decided to take her to an amusement park she was all up for it.

Until she realized the park had more daredevil rides that what she would normally go for, she wasn't the thrill seeking one (she left that to Arya), but went anyway, one time wouldn't hurt. She had screamed and held onto him in every ride and Sandor had laughed at her expensed and proceeded to buy the pictures of the rides where she was terrified as a memento.

She paid him back by having him enter the baby shop and help her find a gift for her brother's newborn. He scowled all the time while she cooed over baby images of the park mascots.

Soon, it was time to leave, and Sansa realized that she hadn't noticed the passing of time; she guessed that time flew when someone was having fun. And she had had fun (but would deny it vehemently to Sandor and had called it torture), Sandor only said that she was coddled too much. They left the park holding hands.

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><p><strong>AN:** All comments, constructive criticism and reviews are very welcome and encouraged. Thank you for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to G. R. R. Martin, the song to Hooverphonic; I claim no ownership nor I make any money for this fanwork._

_**Note:** Modern AU, mentions of past domestic abuse._

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><p><em>You don't have to tell me where it hurts<em>  
>~Encoded Love, Hooverphonic.<p>

_It was time to forgive._

It wasn't often that Sandor thought about his brother; he did everything he could to avoid thinking of him. Not out of worry, but out of hatred; he hated his brother with every fiber of his being.

He had told Sansa his story when they first started dating; they had met in a domestic abuse support group. He had not gone there willingly, but on the orders of his therapist; a man they called 'Elder Brother' he had listened and gone. At first he didn't pay much attention to Sansa, she was a college girl who seemed not to belong to the group that attended.

It wasn't until she had shared her story with the group that he understood. Her boyfriend had been abusive, he had had her beaten on several occasions and gotten away due to his maternal family's influence. But he had died several months after dumping her for another girl. And Sansa had begun getting help, and little by little she seemed to get better. When she attended what would be her last meeting, she had said that she felt finally free, and much to his shock, that she had forgiven Joffrey.

He had asked after the meeting was over why she forgave, she had smiled at him (she had stopped flinching away from him and his scars) and said that she didn't want to waste her energy or life hating the dead. And Joffrey was dead and couldn't hurt her anymore, so, she forgave and from that point on, she would live. She found no joy in dead, but would find it in life.

He had not understood her then.

But he did so now, as the letter rested on his lap, informing him of his brother's death (murder); he mused on her words and her choice. And realized that he too was finally free of Gregor, he would always bear the marks of his actions on his face, but Gregor wouldn't hurt him or anyone else anymore.

Perhaps, Sansa was right, it was time to forgive. If anything, to have a chance to live.

_Timing is everything._

She had been terrified of him at first, he was tall, scarred and angry; he had a permanent scowl and his eyes burnt with anger and hatred that she couldn't help herself if she flinched away from him. It wasn't his fault, but she still bore the scars that Joffrey had left behind and had trouble interacting with men to whom she wasn't directly related to or was friends with.

It was after one meeting where they started talking to one another, it was late and her uncle Edmure was set to pick her up to take her back to the house she shared with friends. But she had received a text from her uncle, his car had decided to break and now had to wait for his father to come home and borrow his car. Sansa had smiled, her uncle was always kind and tenderhearted, but no where near settled; she knew he wouldn't go anywhere near his uncle's car. Not after the incident where he had taken the car without permission and ended in a crash; it wasn't his fault and he was well, but Bryden Tully had henceforth banned him from touching his car.

So, she had no option but to wait. Her brother was on a date and Jon had the night shift on the fire department, Arya was only allowed to drive if either her parents, herself, Jon or Robb were in the car.

She went back inside the place where the meetings took place; there was no reason to stay out in the cold. And that's when she and Sandor had begun a strange friendship, they were grabbing coffee and somehow they had found themselves talking.

At first she had had a hard time believing that a man like him would be in such a group, but that night, after hearing his story, it made sense. Pain came in many forms, for her it had come in Joffrey, to him in his brother and the anger at his father for failing to do anything.

It wasn't until her cellphone rang that they stopped talking, her uncle had arrived and waited for her outside in his car. She hadn't even noticed the passage of time, but he was kind to accompany her. And while she got into her uncle's car, she waved him goodbye and wished him a good night.

He responded in kind.

_Time waits for no man._

It had started with a conversation that ended in both wanting to know more of one another. So they exchanged numbers and made plans to meet somewhere.

That somewhere had been a hole in the wall for a restaurant, he took her there because they made great food and much to Sansa's delight they served lemon cakes as options for dessert. Sandor had chucked at her childish glee of seeing them on the menu, laughed even harder when she mock pouted and pretended to be hurt.

Sansa had returned the favor later when taking him into a gastro pub Jon had recommended and she had gone with some friends beforehand. Sandor had been shocked, saying that he didn't take her for someone who drank. Sansa smiled and responded that she rarely did, but the food was good and they had local beers. Sandor had loved the place and Sansa had been pleased.

The movies came later, in an act of surprising chivalry, Sandor had let her choose. Sansa picked the musical and Sandor swore and nearly bored himself witless; but he was with Sansa, and that made it better.

It wasn't until they had dubbed their official date when Sandor had escorted her back to the house she shared with friends, that they had shared a kiss. Or rather, Sansa had given him a peck on the lips, her blush was deep red. She ran towards the house while goodbye over her shoulder.

He had stood in front of the house trying to process what had happened, his mind had gone blank and was still reeling from the small kiss. But he took a look at the house and then he looked down at his feet, he could still smell Sansa's perfume and realized something.

He was in love and there was no going back.

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><p><strong>AN:** As usual, all comments, constructive criticism and reviews are very welcome and encouraged. Thank you for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to G. R. R. Martin, the song to Hooverphonic. I claim no ownership nor do I profit from this fanwork._

_**Note:** Continuation from the previous chapter.  
><em>

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><p><em>Hard to break encoded love<em>  
><em>So hard to break encoded love<em>  
>~Encoded Love, Hooverphonic.<p>

_The time was right._

As Sansa stood in her room, preparing herself for her wedding, she couldn't help but to think that it was the right time. She and Sandor had gone through a lot, he had been there for her when Bran's accident happened and had refused to leave her side in the hospital.

And she had been at his when the case of his sister's disappearance had been reopened. They had found her remains in the woods close to the house he used to live as a child. And she had been there for him when it had been declared a murder and never let go of his hand as he laid her to rest. He had cried then, sobbing for the sister he had missed and she had only held him in her arms and let him weep.

They both had come to be at peace at long last, the abuse they had suffered was gone and they were happy; they would be married later today and she hoped that children soon would follow. She wanted a happy home for her children like the one she had had herself, like the one Sandor should have had but didn't.

So she let her mother fuzz over her, ignored Arya's decree that she would never marry and that Sansa should be grateful Arya had wore the dress and consented to be her maid of honor. Sansa knew that Arya disliked dresses and seldom wore them, so she loved her sister for doing this for her and that her only request was no pink. Sansa could give her that; she let her choose the dress and asked her to help pick the bridesmaids dress color. Arya had made the face as if she had bit into a bitter lemon, but accepted anyways.

When her father had first seen her, he had smiled and said that she looked beautiful, and escorted her down the isle, Sansa beaming with joy. For once the ceremony was over, a new chapter in their lives would begin and Sansa looked forwards to it; because she knew that no matter what life threw their way, they would have each other.

_Remember the good times._

The ceremony had gone off without any problems. But Sandor's patience had been put to the test during the photography session. It seemed to him that it was never ending, but Sansa was beaming and looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her, that he saved whatever complaint he had.

It had been the same for most part of the dinner; if he was honest with himself, he would have gone for a simple ceremony. But to him, Sansa deserved better; so he braced himself for it all, but Sansa had surprised him, everything was classic and had an understated elegance to it. The wedding had only been for family and their closest friends, so it was a small one. It was beautiful, he had to admit (though never loudly).

It had been Sansa's mother who had delivered his favorite speech, she had spoken about love being built, little by little and the constant work that had to be done to keep it alive. That marriage, just like life held bitter moments, but told them that when those came, it was best to remember the good ones. To be honest with one another and trust each other, for love that held no trust would not come nor bloom.

The food had been excellent, he freely admitted that had been his favorite part of the wedding plans, going to taste menus and cakes with Sansa and deciding what they would have. He left everything else to her (she and her mother had hired a planner); because he knew full well that he was out of his depth in that aspect.

He had relished holding Sansa in his arms during their first dance as husband and wife. For some very precious minutes, the whole world had disappeared and it was just the two of them in the room. He loved the feeling of being loved and loving in return, it had been far more amazing than he could have ever hoped for in life.

_It was time to go._

Time flew fast during the wedding and when they least expected, they were ready to go. They both had stood, holding hands in the center of the room and thanked everyone who had attended; he had thanked the Starks for welcoming him into the family so freely and without judgment.

She had thanked her family too, for welcoming Sandor and had thanked his (admittedly few) friends for welcoming her. Jaime Lannister had stood up and yelled that it was nothing, that he should be thanking her, for taking him off their hands, everyone had laughed, except his very embarrassed date. Poor Brienne was uncomfortable enough; she didn't need any extra help from Jaime.

So Sansa asked the single women to gather around so she could toss the bouquet (as she had chosen to leave it to the last moment), she turned around and in a low voice to Sandor she asked him to direct her at Brienne's direction and he did. So she tossed the bouquet and everyone jumped to get it, but ended in the hands of a flustered Brienne.

When it came to the garter tossing, Sandor had no problem what so ever with tossing it directly at Jaime, who had laughed and asked Brienne to dance. But Sandor and Sansa wouldn't be there to see it, the held hands once more and walked out the door. Life was waiting.

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><p><strong>AN:** And so it ends, thank you for reading. All comments, constructive criticism and reviews are welcome and encouraged. Thank you once again.


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